


In the Ruins of His Dreams

by LuciferxDamien



Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threesome - M/M/M, Xeno, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22249876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/pseuds/LuciferxDamien
Summary: A dream forgotten, a lingering regret. The man that made Griffith lose sight of his castle is back, even if only for a single night. A night to dream together, a night for Guts to claim what he wished to claim years ago. A night before an eclipse.
Relationships: Femto/Griffith/Guts Berserk), Griffith/Guts (Berserk)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55
Collections: Holly Poly 2019





	In the Ruins of His Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiriamKenneath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/gifts).



Safety was a farce, a childish notion after escaping the castle dungeon with Griffith, after fleeing pursuit, after being attacked, attacked, attacked, just to make it to this field, this open land where most of the remaining Hawk were waiting. 

They weren’t safe, but for one night, Guts let himself breathe, to release a breath he didn’t even realize that he had been holding. There was so much more work to be done, there was so much more than Guts could even begin to comprehend. 

They had Griffith back, that had been the plan, but nothing could ever be so simple. 

No… 

Griffith lay at his side, frail and thin, covered in wounds, new and old. Scars, so many scars, his skin dry and ashy; Guts was amazed that Griffith was even alive, his body skin and bone. 

Guts’ head was spinning, so many choices, so much to do, and, and, and… 

It didn’t matter, not right now and he laid down in the back of the wagon. Griffith was here, they could figure out the rest later. For one night, Guts could curl around the man he admired above all others. 

Guts let out his breath as he settled down. He closed his eyes and let the darkness flood him as he relaxed and held onto Griffith as if he would disappear into the night. 

~ ~ ~ 

_‘Your castle awaits you, O King of Longing…’_

A voice, drifting away… 

Where was he? What was this supposed to be? There was sound all around him and Guts could remember falling asleep in the wagon with Griffith. Was he hearing voices from outside of the wagon? Was he needed? 

Guts tried to wake himself, but he felt heavy, sluggish, everything difficult, even opening his eyes. 

One eye opened, he could see something, a shining image in the distance. A castle of light? 

_‘O blessed King of Longing… Soon, soon you will take your place, your castle…’_

A trilling giggle, the husky voice of a woman. It wasn’t Casca. 

Where was he? What was going on…? 

Guts struggled to open his other eye, and only with great effort did he manage to and… 

It was a place of darkness, figures shifting in the shadows. There was a stench of blood, acrid and rotting. Creatures chattering, whispering, twisting just out of view and… 

And in Guts’ arms was Griffith, laying limp and vulnerable. Guts swallowed, pulling him closer to his chest as he got to his knees. 

This wasn’t the wagon, this wasn’t the field they had fled to, no… 

It was just a dream… Guts was used to dreams like this. 

_A nightmare_. 

He tried to take a deep breath, to gain his bearings. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real. 

Guts closed his eyes, feeling Griffith in his arms. He had no weapon, he had no armour, he only had Griffith. 

And none of it was real. He just had to wait until he could wake up. It was just a bad dream, a nightmare and _nothing_ more. 

_‘Nearly there! You’ve come so far, heeheehee!’_

Voices everywhere, he looked around, but it was just dark, save for a tiny sliver of light from above, as if an eclipse were taking place. He let out a long breath, feeling Griffith turning in his arms, and when he opened his eyes again, they weren't alone. 

Guts wasn't as startled as he felt he should have been. His eyes were wide, his heart was racing, but as he looked at the tall, lean figure in front of him, he felt some sort of familiarity. 

Guts pulled Griffith up against his chest, feeling that frail body so fully, every bone, his rasping breath, and Guts grit his teeth as he stared at this figure that had blood red eyes. 

It had the body of a man, but it wasn't human, with taloned feet, clawed fingers, and a curved, beak-like helmet covering its face, like… 

Guts looked down and Griffith's bright blue eyes began to open, his breathing labored, his lips twitching as he tried to speak, but little more than grunts and whines came out. 

_‘A regret, lingering… No, no, no, this won’t do!’_

A taloned hand reached out for him and Guts tried to scramble back, but he was held in place, just watching with wide eyes as he was caressed, touched. The figure didn't smile, just cocking its head to the side like a bird looking him over. 

As the figure's gaze traveled down to Griffith, however... A wide grin appeared, the taloned fingered caressing over the metal helmet, and drifting down lower, to his neck, the centre of his throat, leaving a mark there and smirking. 

_“The veil is thin on this night…”_ it spoke and Guts could only watch as those blood red talons drifted further down. _“The veil is thin, but it is not lifted…”_ The figured frowned, but never stopped moving further down Griffith's body, until it came to the juncture of Griffith's thighs. 

“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Guts cried out. He tried to move, but his body refused to listen, trembling as he watched this creature touching Griffith. 

_“Regret lingers…”_ it spoke so softly that Guts was unsure if he had heard correctly. _“Regret ripples from you both, it fills this place… It will not do.”_

Guts swallowed again and looked into those red eyes that seemed to be glowing in the shifting darkness. "What..." his voice felt small, he felt small in the presence of this figure. It was a feeling that only Griffith had ever instilled in him before now. 

The creature smiled again, bringing his taloned finger up to Guts' chin, tipping his head back to smile at him. 

_"What is it that you've desired…?"_ it asked, but Guts was fairly certain it already knew. It smirked, dropping to its knees before them. _"This body...?"_ It looked over Griffith's frail form again, almost clucking its tongue. _"No... Not this body, of course not this pathetic, enfeebled thing. But I can give you what it is you desire and can never have."_

“What...?” Guts’ throat felt raw, the words catching as he just stared at this thing crouched before him. The sleek lines of its body, the muscles that showed so proudly, moved so effortlessly. 

_‘Take him!’_

Guts felt his eyes growing even wider, Griffith falling out of his arms and groaning as Guts tried to scramble back. What… He swallowed, looking at Griffith laying there, pliant and helpless. He couldn't possibly! 

The figure moved, however, scooping Griffith up and Guts couldn't even find the strength to stop it, to pull Griffith back to him, to do anything to protect the man he loved and admired above all else. The man whose affection he wished for so greatly that he had left, to forge his own name and destiny and… 

Guts was at fault for doing this to Griffith. He knew it, Guts knew it but… 

_‘I desire you…’_ Griffith had whispered to him, so many years ago. A promise, a threat, Guts didn’t know. _‘You belong to **me** …’_ A life together… Guts only wished to be equal to Griffith, and now Griffith was nothing. It was selfish, to leave, for Guts to desire to be anything more than he was, to desire to be equal to Griffith. 

Red eyes bore into him, Griffith held against that blood red, muscular chest, forced to face Guts as he dangled in the creature’s grasp. The figure started nuzzling along Griffith's neck, moving up and turning Griffith's chin to kiss him. Their curved helmets were in the way, but that didn't stop the creature, sticking its tongue into Griffith's mouth and... and of course, Griffith couldn't kiss back. 

Why did the blood start rushing southward, why did Guts’ loins alight with desire… 

Guts swallowed, feeling disgusted with himself as he watched a frail Griffith being kissed, a taloned hand skirting from his boney hip to his groin, rubbing and tugging and pulling there. 

The creature broke away, licking its lips and Guts was sure there had been blood staining Griffith’s lips. _"You know what you desire..."_

And Guts did. He knew, his cock certainly knew. It was perverse. 

_‘I desire you… You belong to **me** …’_

Guts moved. It was wrong and he moved, crawling on his knees toward Griffith and this figure. Close enough to feel Griffith's feeble warmth, he sat on his haunches, looking up at the figure, the impossibly large figure that made him feel small in a way that Griffith only ever had… 

Why did this creature feel so familiar to him? 

A taloned hand came up to caress his cheek and Guts allowed himself to be pulled forward, pressing his chest to Griffith's, putting his hands on Griffith's hips, his thighs, all bone now, no trace left of the stalwart muscle that he knew had been there before. The figure bowed down, pushing Griffith onto Guts, and when the creature wanted to kiss, Guts allowed for it. He hated being touched, but for this, he allowed it, letting that tongue into his mouth, swirling, fighting back, and Guts found himself on his back. 

_‘Such lust, such beautiful lust!’_

That woman’s voice again, deep and husky. Breathy moans echoed in the darkness. Guts’ lungs burned as if he had been screaming for hours, his muscles aching as if he had been fighting countless beasts. 

Griffith was on top of him, facing each other, and they were nude, writhing against one another. Guts’ head was spinning, his breath was hitching. “What…?” he whispered again, confused, bewildered. The figure grinned, Griffith moaned. 

_‘I desire you, Guts…’_

Those words, those memories kept flooding Guts. He didn’t like to be touched, he fought the urge to recoil and push Griffith away from himself. But it was Griffith and he adored Griffith, he admired Griffith, he _desired_ Griffith. 

Guts choked back a groan, his cock hard, a hand gripping him at the root. He grit his teeth, he bore through the rage and the discomfort of being touched. The creature looked at him with half-lidded eyes, smirking, stroking him slowly until Guts couldn’t bear the teasing touches any longer. 

The figure commanded him, Griffith groaned and Guts felt himself entering Griffith. 

It… was too much. 

It was tight, it was hot. Griffith shuddered on top of Guts’, letting out whatever noises he was still capable of making. Inexperience made Guts unsure of himself. Surely, Griffith couldn’t take him, not in his state… 

But it was all just a dream, wasn’t it? 

The creature kneels between Guts’ knees, its cloak touching him, a leathery, smooth feeling as it caressed his thighs, heavy as it draped around them. They were watched and Guts didn’t like that, voices kept whispering all around them, and Guts didn’t know what to do. Did he desire this? Is this truly what he had desired of Griffith? Did… Griffith even want this? Guts could ask, but Griffith could never answer. 

_‘Take him! Take him! Take him! Release all of regrets!’_

Griffith stared down at him with wild blue eyes, searching, searching, searching. Was he pleading for this to stop, was he in pain? Guts didn’t know, lost himself as the ache of his cock became too much and he bucked into Griffith, watching blue eyes go wide, listening to gasps of, of pain? Guts didn’t know, he didn’t know, he didn’t know! 

Pain crept through Guts, to his arm, to his hand as he held onto Griffith and pushed up into him again, slow, trying to be gentle, but it was so difficult! The creature seemed to sigh, taking Griffith’s hips into his taloned hands, moving Griffith so that Guts’ thrusts were more fluid, less erratic and brutal. 

A long, drawn out groan escaped Guts’ throat, his eyes rolling back before everything was dark again. 

_‘Nearly time! Heehee!’_

Warm breath ghosted over Guts’ neck and he opened his eyes, no just one eye, the other stuck once more, and saw Griffith’s mouth hanging open, small soft sounds escaping. His blue eyes were half-lidded and Guts could only hope he was enjoying this as warmth pooled low in Guts’ belly. 

Red eyes peered from over Griffith’s bony shoulder, the creature smirking from behind his curved blood-red helmet. Guts tried to slow down, a rushing roar in his ears as a knot formed low in his belly, something just on the verge of breaking. The creature, however, increased its grasp on Griffith, moving him faster, moving him harder. 

Guts grit his teeth, but the creature kept moving Griffith on top of him, pushing him, pulling him and Guts felt entirely powerless. All of his strength drained from him, his eyes fluttering shut, and then… 

Guts’ eyes flew open, and he felt it, he felt something against his cock, slick and throbbing. There were bumps and ridges, so unlike any cock that Guts had ever seen or felt before and then… 

Griffith arched, his bright blue eyes open, drawing in a ragged breath as that twisted cock pushed into him. It was impossibly tight, the ridges like stone as they slid roughly along Guts’ cock. It was too much and Guts just tried to hold onto Griffith as the creature above them moved, taking its fill, taking whatever it desired from the both of them. 

The creature commanded everything and though Guts knew he wanted this, knew that he wanted to be with Griffith in some way, this… 

This was not it. 

Darkness fluctuated around them, grabbing at Guts, but not his arms, no. The darkness swirled, it caressed them, inky tendrils ghosting over he and Griffith. Guts let out a strangled moan, and he found his mouth filled as something was caressing between his legs, daring to press into his hole. 

Panic came over Guts, he thrashed, but the harder he fought the less effect it had. He was breached, penetrated, and forced open. The creature smiled, wide and knowing. Guts could barely breathe, the tendril undulating in his throat, a burning from between his legs as he was rutted. 

Guts grit his teeth, pushing back his frustration, pushing back the feelings of weakness as he heard voices all around, chattering, whispers, snickers. He had to remain in this place, for Griffith. 

_‘The veil is thin…’_ snickering all around them and Guts almost couldn’t take it anymore. _‘Past… Present… **Future**! They all converge here!’_

Guts wanted this, but there was no way that Griffith could. There was no way for Griffith to communicate, and he laid limp upon Guts’ chest, gasping and groaning, as Guts was left to stare up at the figure that pushed into Griffith with hard, snapping strokes of its hips. 

Intense red eyes, not blue like Griffith’s no, nothing like Griffith’s. It was intense, Guts was struggling to keep up. His arm ached, his eye burned. Why did this feel familiar to him? But far too intimate… It was too close and Guts felt far away, as if he should be watching some horrific show where the applause was screams and pain filled shrieks. 

Guts felt his eyes rolling into the back of his head again, the pain too much, the pleasure even more overwhelming as the creature looked entirely unaffected. It was hard to breathe, his body convulsing as he fought for air, as he fought to be free of the tendrils inside of him. The creature kept even strokes, hard and fast, that bumpy, ridged cock grinding against Guts’, popping in and out of Griffith. 

His arm ached, a dull pang that throbbed through his bones, his eye felt as if on fire, his vision blurred. 

Guts looked up into those bright red eyes, seeing a flash of blue, blue, blue. Sky, water, _snow_. 

Guts gasped, the face behind the blood red helmet, it was _Griffith_ , and Guts had more than a vague feeling that he would be in this position again soon. Though, he felt as if Griffith himself would be gone somehow. He felt lost, he felt _loss_ as he stared into those snow-blue eyes, a portent of what was to be… 

Guts cried out, the tendrils retreating from his body. There was wetness on his abdomen from Griffth’s spill, the tightness around his cock too tight, undulating. The cock against his own rubbing and sticking against his flesh and Guts cried out again. Everything ached, it burned, his spill was ripped from him and then everything was just dark, just as it had begun. 

_‘Thou art ready, O blessed King of Longing…’_

Guts awoke, heart beating hard in his chest. It was still dark out, the sun hours from rising. He checked his arm, he checked his eye, the pain still there, throbbing as it faded away. 

He looked down at Griffith, bright blue eyes looking up at him and Guts didn’t know what to do. Did Griffith dream the same thing…? 

He took in a shuddering breath, Griffith’s eyes closing with a slow exhale. Morning would come soon, and Guts knew that he had a choice awaiting him. He just didn’t know what that choice would entail. Or, whether the choice was even his to make. 


End file.
